Show Me Your Steps

A mother crab and her little child emerged from a tide pool at dawn. The beach was quiet, and their sideways footsteps made tiny tracks in the smooth damp sand.

The little crab hurried around a pebble to inspect a shell. His mother watched him zigzag across the beach. She thought his sideways route looked rather untidy and slow.

She asked him to walk straight forward instead. That would look neater, she said, and perhaps get them to the next pool sooner. The little crab stopped to listen.

He looked at his legs, then at the path ahead. He tried to move forward exactly as she wanted, but his comfortable steps kept carrying him to the side.

Could you show me first, he asked politely. Then I can follow your footprints. His mother agreed at once and lined herself up with a narrow groove in the sand.

She lifted her legs carefully and tried a straight walk. Yet her own body moved sideways too. After a few steps, she found herself beside the groove instead of ahead.

The mother stopped and looked at her tracks. She had asked for something she could not demonstrate herself. The little crab waited kindly, without laughing at her surprising discovery.

She admitted that sideways steps suited a crab very well. Instead of judging his route, she could teach him to watch the tide, avoid deep holes, and keep his claws clear.

This time she showed each careful step before asking him to try. They went around a smooth stone together, leaving two tidy sets of sideways tracks beside the water.

At the next tide pool, the little crab found a lovely empty shell. His mother smiled. A useful lesson began with an honest example and room for both of them to learn.